


Late Flights

by wingsofanillyrian



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, aelin is cranky, theyre stuck in an airport, whats new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 12:18:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14112192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsofanillyrian/pseuds/wingsofanillyrian
Summary: Rowan and Aelin are snowed in at the airport.





	Late Flights

I couldn’t wait to get home. This hit had proven to be much messier and more involved than I had expected, and I was ready to get home and curl up with a good book. I had just slumped down in a chair when a tinny voice flooded through the airport speakers.

_Flight 541 to Terrasen has been delayed due to weather. Please see the service desk for more information. We apologize for any inconvenience._

I glanced down at the ticket in my hand. Flight 541 to Terrasen. Just my fucking luck.

I groaned, glancing at the departures board suspended from the ceiling above me. Sure enough, next to my flight number, DELAYED was printed in giant red letters. I grumbled as I gathered my carry-on bag and jacket, hauling myself to the service desk, where a short line had already formed.

It was bad enough that the only flight back home was a 3 am red-eye, but now it was delayed to Gods knew when. While I was busy brooding, some other poor passenger knocked into me from behind.

“Hey-“ I whirled to face the stranger, but was eye level with a wall of muscle. My gaze traveled from the sculpted chest that was barely covered by a dee blue cotton shirt to their face, where I became entranced by swirling, angular lines of a tattoo and pine green eyes.

“Can I help you?” Those eyes danced in amusement as the silver-haired man crossed his arms over his chest. The sheer beauty of the male standing before me made me acutely aware of the fact that I was in grubby sweats and wasn’t wearing any makeup. I gathered my wits and cut him a glare.

“Watch where you’re going, alright?”

“No problem,” he grunted, and I turned back around. I stepped up to the counter to hash it out with the service representative.

“So when is the plane expected to get in?” Usually, I was much more refined and poised, but getting up at 2 am will make a person weary.

The attendant blinked rapidly before typing something into her computer. “Let’s see… It looks like the next flight should be here in about ten hours.”

I made a strangled sound. “Are you kidding me?”

“I’m sorry miss, but your flight will be upgraded free of charge-“ She held out a small pamphlet, which I glared at.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” I swiped the ticket from her hand and stomped back to the waiting area. What the hell was I supposed to do for ten hours? Sleep was out of the question, what with these damn uncomfortable seats and the eerie silence of the near-empty airport. I had only brought one book, and that wouldn’t be enough to keep me busy…

“Damn, this sucks.” The tattooed man from earlier slumped into the seat next to mine, glancing over at me. I looked pointedly around at the rest of the empty seats, raising a questioning brow.

He shrugged. “We’ve got ten hours until our flight, and judging by the way you look put out and honestly somewhat lost, I’d assume you anticipate being just as bored as I am.” Though I appreciated his intuitiveness, I still glared at him.

“I’m Rowan,” he said, undeterred by my iciness.

“Aelin,” I mumbled back, reluctantly shaking his hand. I jerked my chin at him, eyes on the tattoo that swirled from under his collar and onto his cheek, “What’s that for?”

His cool exterior quickly froze over. “Nothing.” He reached up, touching it absentmindedly. “It’s… Personal.” I nodded, dropping the subject. I’d been through enough in my years to know when someone’s past tortured them.

“What brings you to Terrasen?” I tried, deciding he wasn’t so bad.

“Business. You?”

“Home,” I said, and couldn’t contain my smile. I had been away for so long; I was aching to get back to my sprawling countryside home, surrounded by green grass and thick, lush forests that held mountains of secrets. Even now, I could hear my land calling to my blood, beaconing me to come home.

“Beautiful place to call home,” he murmured, completely genuine.

“It is.”

There was a few beats of awkward silence before I blubbered, “So what do you do?”

Rowan quirked a brow at me, a smile tugging on his sharp lips. “I’m assuming you mean my job.”

I nodded, rolling my eyes. “Yes, your job.”

“Well,” he started, shifting in his seat to face me more fully, “I’m afraid that’s sensitive information. Given on a need to know basis, and since we’re two strangers stuck in an airport… I don’t think you’re privy to that.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, surveying his efficient demeanor and loose clothing. The attire was carefully chosen to blend in in a crowd, but was loose and flexible enough to allow free range of motion. The set of his shoulders was confident and strong, yet cautious. His eyes flicked around the room every few seconds, noting exits and marking people as they milled about. I’d done my fair share of reading people, what with being an assassin and all, and I knew one of my kind when I saw them.

Well, when I wasn’t groggy, at least.

“You’re a hitman,” I guessed, and was rewarded with wide green eyes.

“Keep your damn voice down,” he hissed, inadvertently leaning in closer. “How the hell did you guess that?”

I shrugged, a lopsided smirk on my lips as I picked at my nails. “Maybe we’ve chosen similar career paths.” He scoffed, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze raked over me, noting the loose braid of my light hair and the perfect manicured fingernails.

“Yeah right,” he said, unimpressed. “Like you’d ever do anyone’s dirtywork.”

“That’s why it’s the perfect cover. No one ever expects death from a pretty, tiny woman like me.” I shot him a devil’s smile, and he blinked.

“Alright,” he relented, holding up his hands in surrender. “Let’s not mix work with pleasure though, yeah?”

“Sure, handsome. Let’s talk about you.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “What do you do for fun?”

“Fun?” He barked out an amused laugh. “I don’t have time for fun.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could make time,” I mused, boldly throwing my legs over his lap. He stared at them, utterly bewildered. I threw my head back and laughed at his helpless expression.

“What, too casual for you?”

“I barely know you,” he protested, shoving my feet back to the floor. I huffed, but didn’t try and replace them.

Pouting my lower lip, I grumbled, “And here I thought we were friends.”

He studied me for a few heartbeats, his intense green eyes noting every detail of my posture and appearance. “Perhaps we could be. We do have-“ he glanced at his designer watch- “nine hours and fifty-two minutes until our plane arrives.”

I grinned, wide and inviting. “I’ll accept that challenge.”


End file.
